


A Lesson in Patience

by Musetotheworld



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, General Danvers Week, Phantom Zone, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 02:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musetotheworld/pseuds/Musetotheworld
Summary: They’re never quite sure how it happened.One moment their ship is dodging a chunk of debris in preparation to circle around the battle and attack from the side, the next they’re in the Phantom Zone with totally unresponsive engines.





	A Lesson in Patience

They’re never quite sure how it happened.

One moment their ship is dodging a chunk of debris in preparation to circle around the battle and attack from the side, the next they’re in the Phantom Zone with totally unresponsive engines. The abrupt change nearly shatters the uneasy truce they’d recently forged in face of a greater threat. Their words are mere echoes of past battles between them, but they carve deep as any blow. Accusations and taunts fly, fists only barely held back from joining. The argument dissolves what trust they’d built, ending with Alex stalking off to one end of the ship and leaving Astra to poke at dead circuitry.

They don’t talk much after that.

When they do, something always goes wrong. The simplest comment starts a battle that wages for hours, neither willing to back down. When they separate afterwards Alex guiltily wonders if the fighting happens so often simply to provide herself a distraction from the emptiness around them, but then she remembers Astra was equally quick to raise her voice. If it’s a distraction, they’re both guilty.

(Sometimes she remembers the look of absolute terror on Astra’s face when they realized where they were, inky blackness that somehow managed to glow with a malevolent light the only thing outside the viewports. It makes the guilt worse each time. But Alex has never been great at avoiding bad decisions, and an eternity in the Phantom Zone doesn’t seem likely to change that.)

After a month of strained silence broken only by the distant proof they are both still on the ship, Alex tries to reach out. She’s never been good at this, too sharp and too harsh to manage conciliatory. She’s been fighting since she was 14, while she can wield any gun with some level of skill words are her oldest weapons. 

“What are you working on?”

As opening lines go it’s not the greatest. Despite all of Alex’s best efforts it sounds accusatory, a reminder of the blame they’d thrown at each other those first days. But she manages to keep her tone level, her posture open. And though Astra eyes her with suspicion there is no instant defensive retort.

“The computer readings show the thrusters as offline. I am attempting to determine why.”

Curt and a bit abrupt, but Alex can work with this. It’s the most they’ve spoken in weeks and much as Alex hates to admit it the conversation feels good. Helps the loneliness.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” There, that didn’t sound like the beginning of an argument. Polite, helpful, willing to get her hands dirty, all positive things, surely. “I may not know spacecraft but I’ve worked on my bike enough to spot what doesn’t belong.”

Alex can  _ see _ Astra physically restrain what was surely a snide comment before nodding towards another section of tubing. “This section still needs a preliminary check for faulty wiring or connections. Your help would be greatly appreciated, Agent Danvers.”

Alex debates the various merits of having Astra drop the title as she crosses the cramped room, but ultimately decides it isn’t worth it. So far they’ve had exactly half a civil conversation and it seems risky to push for more. Instead she bites the offer down and focuses on her assigned section.

Before long she realizes Astra has given her the least complex are of the thruster room and her restraint snaps. She may be a simple human, but she is more than capable of simple tasks, dammit. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Astra had already checked this area.

Spinning to give Astra a piece of her mind backfires when Alex manages to spin directly into Astra’s side. Without the powers of a yellow sun Astra is as vulnerable as Alex, and they both let out a grunt of pain at the impact.

“What the fuck,” Alex says when she’s caught herself against the engine. “A little space, maybe?”

“You’re free to step outside if you would prefer space,” Astra says with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “I was standing still. You spun into me.”

Alex knows it’s true but she can’t back down Her mouth has taken off with no input from common sense. “Standing still and way too close? I know this ship is small, but a little personal space shouldn’t be too much to ask for. And what the hell is your problem, giving me a section a baby could check? If you didn’t want my help you could just fucking say.”

“Is the profanity necessary, Agent? It hardly seems helpful in this situation.”

Alex cuts her off with a laugh before she can defend her choice of assignment. “Necessary? Maybe fucking not, but it sure helps relieve the stress. And I’ve heard you, General. Don’t pretend you’re so innocent over there. Kara taught me enough Kryptonian to know you aren’t keeping it clean either.”

She’s heard Astra over the past month, cursing loudly at whatever project she’s messing with that day. And while distance and rusty language skills mean Alex doesn’t know exactly what was said, she’d understood the gist of it.

“What words I use in private have no bearing on our situation. A conversation however should have a higher standard of decorum.” Astra has that edge in her voice that always sets Alex off, and this time is no exception.

“Decorum? I’ll show you where to shove your decorum.” She very nearly matches actions to words, only barely managing to restrain herself to storming off. “Fix your own damn thrusters then, not that what you asked me to check would have helped anything in the first place,” she tosses over her shoulder on the way down the corridor.

So much for conciliatory.

***

The thing about the Phantom Zone that Kara never explained is how weirdly time passes. It’s frozen, and yet it’s human (and Kryptonian) nature to mark the time that isn’t passing. An hour last a decade, but a decade passes in a second.

Alex checks the ship’s onboard computer every so often, trying to make sense of things. There has to be some pattern, some way to anticipate how much time is passing back on Earth. But no matter how often she checks or how much she does between glances, there’s never a set schedule. She can sleep several times and an hour will show, or she can glance away and it’s days later.

Between that, the unending darkness outside the viewports, and the lack of any conversation, Alex can feel herself slipping. It’s too much, and finally she manages to swallow her pride and approach Astra. If the darkness and isolation is getting to her too, they’ll have better luck if they lean on each other for support. Surely if they’re being polite they can manage better distractions than screaming matches and chilly silences.

“Astra?” It’s been quiet for a few days (hours? Minutes?) now and Alex isn’t sure where to start her search. They’ve mostly drawn lines through the ship, laying claim to certain rooms and avoiding others. The few common rooms are empty most of the time, but Alex still starts there.

It’s not until Alex reaches the depths of the ship closest to the engines that she hears Astra, her muttering the only thing that breaks the silence around them. She sounds frustrated and Alex almost turns back, but this is important. This isn’t about playing nice and pretending everything is fine, this is about literally saving their sanity. They’ve already spend 14 years (centuries, hours, seconds) in this silent hell. They can’t spend any more. They won’t survive it.

And the only way to avoid that is working together. It may not be a clear goal, Alex knows Astra has been over every inch of the engines and computer mainframe looking for a solution. There isn’t much, if anything, left to try.

But it is still a goal. Working together to avoid failure. They’re professionals, surely they can manage that much.

“Strange to see you in my half of the ship, Agent Danvers.”

“That’s, uh, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, General.” The formality feels strained, but Alex needs it. If she pretends she’s talking to a superior officer then maybe this won’t get out of hand.

“If you’d like to redraw the boundaries, I have no interest,” Astra says, turning away and back to the schematic Alex can see now that she’s edged her way into the room. “The divide has suited us well so far, I see no reason to change.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alex says, politely as she knows how. “The divide isn’t helping us, it’s hurting us. We’re alone on this ship, stranded in the middle of the Phantom Zone. There’s no other living being within contact range, which means it’s just us. And if we don’t work together, the isolation will destroy us.”

Astra is tense, still staring at the schematics in front of her and avoiding eye contact with Alex. Admitting they need help is hard for both of them. Alex knows this, can still feel the weight of her words and vulnerability settling in her gut. It’s not a comfortable sensation.

But she’s a team leader and she’s learned when to back down. This is no different, no matter the fact she doesn’t have an actual team at the moment. She can still look after herself, and Astra too. It’s the only way.

“Look, Astra,” the use of her name finally gets the woman to look up, “we can’t keep going on like this. Can you honestly tell me the isolation isn’t getting to you? That going for days and weeks without speaking a word to each other doesn’t make you feel more alone than the blackness outside?”

Alex has won, she sees it in the way Astra swallows, the dart of her eyes towards the door as if she can see the darkness around them even from here.

“A convincing argument,” is what she says, and for the first time in a long time Alex feels a ray of hope.

***

Sparring becomes their distraction of choice. It doesn’t require conversation or agreement, and it’s a good way to work out their fears and frustrations in a non-destructive manner. They’re both well trained in their chosen disciplines, enough so that injuries are rare and rarely serious no matter how the bouts stretch on.

It takes time before they start to teach and learn in turns. Alex starts the teaching first, sharing Earth’s martial arts with Astra the same way she had with so many DEO recruits. It’s familiar, and an interesting challenge getting Astra to unlearn habits and thought processes long enough to master the new styles. 

It’s not until Alex hesitantly shares a memory of teaching Kara the same move that Astra begins to teach her in return. They’d both avoided any mention of the ones they’d left behind when their ship trapped them here, particularly their shared connection in Kara.

Part of it was to avoid a fight, in the early days it would have been easy to blame Kara for their situation. She was the only reason they’d been working together, their truce more Kara’s doing than their own. But even after those tense first years they’d stayed quiet, afraid of remembering what they’d lost.

For Astra it’s harder to teach than to learn. As a General she’d been too busy to bother with new recruits and their training the way Alex had. The only person she’d even taught had been a young Kara. It was a game then, too early for the official training of Klurkor and Torquasm Rao. 

To teach Alex now, to offer that same gift and share the same experience previously only gifted to Kara, it took an immense amount of strength. Alex could see it in Astra’s shoulders, tight with tension. Hear it in her voice, heavy with memories. It wasn’t just training, it was a gift.

By the time half a century passed (both a blink and an eternity) they’d mastered every style the other knew. They could fight to a standstill in their sleep as blows flew and were deflected with ease and familiarity. But they still kept up their practice, learning to read each other with a level of familiarity neither had experienced before. 

Alex had come close a few times with past sparring partners, but nothing could beat decades of learning how someone moved, how they fought, how they thought. Though they never had a chance to fight side by side rather than against one another, Alex knew that if they ever had the chance they would make a formidable team.

And it helped, more than Alex had hoped. With the added benefit of a challenge to go with conversation and companionship it was a lot easier to ignore the empty space outside the ship. Even with the strange way time passed, the days didn’t drag on nearly as much as before.

In fact, when a careless glance at the computer mainframe one day showed Alex they’d been in the Phantom Zone for 72 years, it took almost a full minute (day? week?) for the reality to sink in.

72 years to the outside galaxy. 72 years frozen in space.

Empires could have risen and fallen on Earth in that time. It was impossible to imagine what kind of technology would be common use these days, how much would be Earth developed advances and how much would come from a wider galaxy the planet surely would have joined by now. 

Her family and friends, her DEO team and the young trainees she’d put through their paces, how many were gone? How many had been on the planet for nearly a century with no sign of slowing?

And what was Kara up to? Was she safe? Was she happy? Was she still Kara Danvers or had she abandoned that identity, and if she’d abandoned it was it for another or for the mantle of Supergirl and nothing else?

She’s still sitting in shock when Astra finds her, staring out into the blackness they usually ignore. It’s too real, too present for her to block out today, and for the first time in years (centuries? minutes?) Alex has fallen into it.

“What is it, has something happened?” Astra asks at first, looking down at the viewscreen in concern.

“72 years,” is all Alex can say to explain, but Astra seems to understand.

“I’d forgotten how strangely time passes, trapped in this hell. It felt longer in Fort Rozz, with the neverending routine and guard patrols. You could never miss a day.”

This is the first time Astra has mentioned her time on Fort Rozz, and that realization draws Alex away from the emptiness and back into the comforting presence of the woman beside her.

“I miss everyone,” she says after a moment, once she can meet Astra’s eyes. “So many must be gone by now.”

It’s a pain Alex knows is all too familiar for Astra, and she’s hoping that familiarity comes with some sort of advise. Something more helpful than the thoughts currently swirling around her head.

From the look of compassion on Astra’s face, so easy to spot now after decades, Alex knows that won’t be the case. But having someone to share the pain still helps.

“We remember them, when no one else can. Sometimes there is nothing else to be done.”

Alex nods her understanding and turns away from the viewport, focusing on what’s real and in front of her. Astra does the same, and they sit quietly for a few moments before Alex breaks the silence.

They talk for hours, remembering family and friends, from Earth and from Krypton. They share stories, funny and sad, about places and people they may never see again. About the experiences that shaped them, the mentors that influenced them.

And then when the words are spent, they return to their sparring room and sink into the familiar patterns of combat. Their motions are smooth, experienced, almost choreographed as they dance around each other. Spinning close then whirling away, fists flying at heads and legs sweeping towards shins, never making contact but always coming close.

This, more than the talking, this is what clears Alex’s head. The rush of endorphins as she pushes past her exhaustion, the occasional thud of blows blocked rather than dodged. The way Astra feels pressed against her when they begin to grapple.

Somewhere in that moment their bout becomes something else. The atmosphere grows charged around them, and the next time Astra grabs for her Alex doesn’t resist. Instead she moves along with the motion, pushing Astra backwards until they’re pressed against the wall.

It’s exhilarating and strange, this new development. Unexpected and yet somehow inevitable. New and familiar, an extension of the familiarity they’d already built.

As their lips meet Alex is suddenly glad for the strange passing of time, as their slow and unhurried motions stretch for days and yet minutes. She can feel emotions starting to bubble in the back of her mind and ruthlessly shoves them away in favor of focusing on the physical, on the way each touch takes an hour, each caress a second. This may take months, or it may take mere minutes. There’s no way to tell, so Alex doesn’t try. She just lets go.

***

After that day it feels almost comfortable on the ship. Yes, they’re still trapped. Yes, they still have no way out of a literal hell hole in the middle of the universe. Yes, the days and years and decades continue to pass.

But they have their memories, and their sparring sessions, and each other.

Not that Alex ever puts it into those words, even in her head. It was just seeking comfort, just spending time. It wasn’t like they had a limit on that. At least between sparring and other activities they could keep their minds off the situation. Far more pleasant than the alternative of dwelling on it.

It wasn’t until Alex realized how comfortable they’d become that she lets herself wonder if there’s more to it than just two people stuck in a bad situation leaning on each other for support.

She didn’t want it to be more, and yet she did. She wanted more of the softness she’d catch glimpses of when Astra looked at her, or held her close as they fell asleep. They knew so much about each other’s pasts by now, had been the sole comfort through nightmares and tough days. Was it really so strange to want something beyond two strangers lending a helping hand?

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m at least a little glad we got stuck here,” Alex says as they watch the time on the main console.

They’d noticed a week ago that the date was almost 100 years after they’d first arrived in the Phantom Zone, and since then they’d been taking turns watching the seconds tick by. It was the most structured their days had been since they’d landed here, and Alex wasn’t sure she liked it. A week felt longer than entire years when they paid attention to it.

“You would be the only one, then.” Astra doesn’t sound upset, just resigned. 

Something about the structure has gotten to her, and Alex has seen the tension rising in her frame over the last day or two. Reminders of Fort Rozz, maybe?

“Well, obviously I hate it, like really hate it,” Alex explains, leaning back into Astra’s arms and feeling a little of that tension bleed from her frame at the familiar position. “It’s quiet, and empty, and the kitchen has no variety. Not my top vacation spot.”

Astra manages a laugh at that one, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Alex’s head. Another of the soft gestures Alex has decided she wants more of. Thus this whole conversation.

With a deep breath now that she’s getting to her main point, Alex continues. “But awful scenery and cell reception aside, it hasn’t been completely horrible. I think, on Earth, we never would have managed to have this thing between us, you know? We had responsibilities and distractions, and barely a truce. I don’t know how  _ this _ would have grown from  _ that.” _

Astra is silent for long moments as she considers, but Alex isn’t worried. She can feel the same warmth in the arms holding her close, feel the same care in the embrace. “I can’t say I would do this again, for all that I have come to enjoy our time together,” she says slowly, pulling Alex closer. “But then I imagine you would also choose differently. I will say, Alex, that I am grateful you have been here with me.”

Alex wants to laugh, because of course it took them a hundred years before they could acknowledge their feelings. She’s pretty sure ‘ridiculous’ doesn’t begin to cover it.

Instead she turns her head and meets Astra’s lips with her own in a kiss softer than any they’ve shared before. It feels like a new beginning, but Alex doesn’t know whether it counts as a start when they’ve been sleeping together for decades now.

They’re so lost in the kiss that it takes a few moments to notice the increased hum from the ship, the almost forgotten sound of thrusters firing up.

It’s harder to miss the jolt through the frame, and Alex pulls away from Astra in a panic, grabbing for the nearest console as she looks around to see what’s changed. The displays are flashing warning messages and diagnostics faster than she can track, so she gives up on that in favor of making it to a chair and strapping in.

“Emergency protocol activated,” Astra reads as she does the same, securing herself next to Alex. “Initiating sequence 302, return to previous base.”

“What the hell is sequence 302? And why couldn’t it do this a few decades ago?”

“It’s returning us to Earth, the last known landing berth. It’s a failsafe to keep secure communications and information from enemy hands.” Astra can read the scrolling displays better than Alex, eyes flicking from screen to screen as she drinks in as much information as she can. “There is a small set of emergency thrusters hidden on the external engine housings, inaccessible from the interior and programmed to initiate a jump after a century of zero contact and no signs of enemy attacks.”

“Again, they couldn’t set it at half a century, maybe a quarter?” Alex complains. They’ve been trapped on this ship for a century, and while she’s still grateful for the chance to know and love Astra it’s a bit much to know there were functional engines the whole time. “Or put some notice in the computer, some kind of manual trigger, maybe?”

“I presume they had their reasons,” Astra says, though Alex can hear the agreement in her tone. “But for now, Alex, I suggest you hold on.”

***

Emergency thrusters don’t make for a fun trip, and even less for fun landings. Especially as the collision avoidance system seems to have the same limited forethought as the rest of the emergency systems.

Their path into Earth’s atmosphere is bumpy, and as they draw closer to the ground Alex can see skyscrapers rushing to meet them. What had been an empty stretch of desert a hundred years ago is anything but empty now.

“Oh, fuck.” Alex can’t hold the swear back as she looks at Astra. “I don’t suppose your cells have absorbed enough yellow sunlight to get us out of this mess, have they?”

“It will take several days before I regain full use of my powers,” Astra says quietly, looking at the ground and buildings beginning to fill the viewport. Her hand reaches out to rest on Alex’s arm, a gesture of comfort that doesn’t do much for battling the rising panic. “At least we will not die in that emptiness. Thank you for making it bearable, Alex.”

Alex can only nod, shifting to take Astra’s hand in hers as the details on the ground begin to take shape. What else is there to say?

Just as Alex begins to debate closing her eyes the ship jolts, slowing to a stop quickly enough to throw Alex forward with bruising force as the restraints cut into her chest and shoulders. Still, better alive and bruised than dead any day. 

A scant few minutes later they’re landing in an actually empty field and Alex fumbles for the release. They hadn’t seen anything through the viewport, but that hasn’t stopped her from hoping. This is Earth, and Kryptonians age so slowly under the yellow sun, it’s impossible to not wonder if Kara is the one who saved them.

The hope is proven true the moment they lower the entry ramp, familiar arms wrapping around Alex and Astra both as tears begin to flow down all their faces. It’s a reunion they’ve all wanted for a century, finally in reach.

***

Being back on Earth means a battery of tests, enough to drive Alex up a wall even with decades of forced patience under her belt. But she’s still scientist enough to know extended exposure to unknown stimuli can have strange effects on the human genome. A few tests, even if they drive her crazy, are definitely needed.

It helps that Astra is always there as well, and Kara never leaves for more than ten minutes at a time. She’s still Supergirl, still dedicated to keeping this world safe, and Alex had insisted she continue her duties.

The part of Alex that had grown accustomed to the quiet of the Phantom Zone is too ashamed to admit it likes the quiet when Kara is gone. It’s vastly overshadowed by the parts that missed her sister and the unending exuberance, but that doesn’t mean it’s gone. And the short breaks, however infrequent, are welcomed only because they keep that darkness from spreading.

Astra begins to worry after a few days, Kara not far behind. The bruises from the landing haven’t faded at all, haven’t started the transition from deep purple to sickly green and yellow. And they’re as tender as they’d been when she got them. Even with special healing salves full of futuristic healing components she heals slowly. It’s over a month before they fade completely.

When the tests come back they confirm what Alex had suspected. Being frozen in time for a century had mutated her DNA, slowing her cellular processes in strange ways. She healed slowly, but she also aged slowly. Not a trade off Alex would have made given the choice, but one meaning she’d be around to see the coming centuries with the Kryptonians at her side.

When they’d gotten the news, Astra had nearly broken her impassive facade in front of the scientists. It was barely a waver, only enough for Alex to spot, but it was there. What she couldn’t tell was whether it was a good or a bad reaction.

“What are you thinking?” she asks quietly when they make it back to Kara’s home for dinner. “It’s not great news, but it’s not bad news, either.”

“No, Alex, it is not bad news at all,” Astra says, finally relaxing enough to smile. “I wish it were better news, I worry that you will end up with undue harm given the healing speed they factor. But it is not bad news.”

“I’ll have to stay out of the field,” Alex admits to herself as much as Astra. “So you’d better keep an eye on Kara for both of us, got it?”

“Both eyes, when able,” Astra promises, looking relieved. Probably grateful Alex hadn’t made a big deal out of the forced benching.

“And you’ll have to find a set of protective gear and a red sun lamp for our sparring sessions,” Alex continues, moving closer. “Maybe for a bedroom too.”

A loud ‘ewww’ echoes down the hallway and breaks some of the tension for a moment as Kara overhears them.

“But seriously, Astra, I know I’ll have limits now. I may not like them, but somewhere over the last century I learned to accept them. I’ll find some cushy job teaching history or something. Go consult only with whatever organisation Kara works with these days. Whatever I have to do. We have a chance at a future for the first time in a hundred years, and I’m not going to waste it.”

The kiss Astra gives her is all the answer either needs to a question neither has asked.

And if the marks on Alex’s neck don’t fade for a month after that?

Well, the look on Kara’s face for the first week made it well worth the hassle.


End file.
